"Isn’t love just the absolute pits?"
We follow sixteen year old Tilly, who reluctantly agrees to help her best friend Teddy win over his crush, Katherine Cooper-Bunting (and yes, you will read that full name approximately seven thousand times per chapter), by joining a local theatre production. Naturally, this being YA romance, things do not stay simple. Tilly catches feelings for Katherine, loyalty gets messy, emotions get louder, and everything spirals into the sort of romantic confusion that makes you grateful you’re no longer sixteen and spiritually allergic to group projects.
The book leans heavily into its stylistic gimmick: it reads like a teenage diary, all breathless confession, clipped observation, and the word “like” doing more heavy lifting than a forklift. At first, it’s charming. It really is. There’s something authentic in the chaos of messy thoughts and the sense that everything is both catastrophic and deeply important at the same time.
But somewhere around the halfway mark, the charm starts to feel like déjà vu. The conversational style becomes repetitive, and what initially felt like realism starts edging into “please, for the love of plot progression, use a different sentence structure.” It’s easy reading, yes but sometimes too easy, like the narrative equivalent of being stuck on a treadmill set one speed forever.
Tilly herself is… a lot. She’s hormonal, defensive, argumentative in that teenage way where even agreeing feels like losing. She pushes boundaries with her parents, picks fights for sport, and often veers into selfishness that makes her difficult to root for. And while teenage messiness is realistic, there’s a difference between “complex character” and “I would like to gently confiscate your phone until you develop empathy.”
Her relationship with her grandfather, who is living with Alzheimer’s, is particularly frustrating. There are moments where warmth exists, but they’re often buried under refusal, resentment, or detachment that never quite earns its emotional payoff. Given her history with him, the lack of sustained compassion feels less like realism and more like narrative avoidance of deeper emotional engagement. True selfishness at it's core.
And then there’s Teddy: golden retriever energy in human form, tragically earnest, dressed like a walking nostalgia aisle (Care Bears, My Little Pony shirts, emotional vulnerability unprotected by irony). He deserves better. Honestly, at several points, so does everyone in a 10 metre radius of Tilly, including Katherine. Especially when Tilly outs Katherine for being gay.
Representation wise, the book does a solid job normalising queer and non binary identities without making them exotic or explanatory. Tilly is lesbian, Miroslaw is gay, Robin is nonbinary and Katherine is exploring her new queerness. These identities exist in the story as fact, not spectacle, which is refreshing even when the rest of the narrative is spiralling like a theatre rehearsal without a stage manager.
There is also the matter of tone around sex and masturbation: it’s not explicit, but it’s present, casual, and awkward in a recognisably teenage way. The intention is realism, and it mostly works, though it may well make some readers shift in their seat and suddenly become very interested in the carpet given it's involving sixteen year olds.
Plot wise, it’s fairly transparent. The emotional beats and ending are signposted early enough that you could probably predict them while half watching Netflix with a large glass of wine. There’s nothing wrong with predictability in YA, but here it does contribute to a feeling of low surprise and even lower narrative tension. The play itself is rushed at the end within the last 13 pages. So much build up for that....
And that, ultimately, is where it lands: Cupid's Revenge is a 'comfort' read that occasionally forgets it should also be a compelling read. It has some charm. It has voice. It has moments that feel honest and painfully familiar in that “oh God I was absolutely like this at sixteen” way.
But it also has a protagonist who can be hard to like, a style that overstays its welcome, and a romance that never quite becomes something to invest in beyond intellectual curiosity.
So yes, love might be the absolute pits. But so is sitting through 300+ pages of someone repeatedly saying the words 'like' and 'Katherine Cooper-Bunting'. I've already been 16 once, never again thank you very much.